


First Impressions

by Justausernameonline



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers (2017)
Genre: F/F, adhd and dyslexic! kimberly but it's not mentioned in here but know that's my hc for kimberly, avoidant! trini, kimberly: i love trini, kimberly: mom no, mrs. hart is the go-to mom for kim's gushing about trini, mrs. hart: im going to embarrass you with my love for you, mrs. hart: that's nice, trimberly - Freeform, trini is anxious af but she loves kimberly's mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 03:57:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10654422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justausernameonline/pseuds/Justausernameonline
Summary: Trini feels generally unwelcome every new place she goes, but the Hart household is not one of them, as she decides while waiting for Kimberly.





	First Impressions

(She follows a textbook example of conversing with adults. Adults that don’t bare their teeth or slip a neurotoxin to stop her words. Adults that are parents to her friends. Hopefully good parents.)

“I’m Madeline. It’s so wonderful to meet you. Are you Trini?”

“Ohuhm, yeah.”

“My daughter has told me much about you.”

“Really?”

“Really! Come on inside.” Trini smiles slightly, a bit wary as she toes off her shoes at the mat inside, noting Mrs. Hart’s bare feet.

It’s the first time Trini meets Mrs. Hart.

Summer and fall vie for power in the former’s decline, but summer wins out with Trini struck by the cool air caught within the household walls, small rooms making little trouble to insulate and aerate the home’s floors. Every window has grey translucent curtains, dancing to a silent song that she can lose herself into.

In the atrium, there is a square of thick violet couches set before a coffee table, a full bookshelf and a tv installed to lush green walls. A carpet’s tucked under them all. Directly across are marble steps ascending L-wise to the second floor, the railings glossy wood, and Trini can’t help shrinking, scanning Mrs. Hart for what not to do, scanning herself for imperfections, the sweat on her skin feeling more pronounced, and planning a quick exit.

Everything here is right where they belong, and as Trini rubs at a dry spot she’s missed with her daily lotion routine, suddenly able to see all creases of her polo shirt, she deflates into a couch across Mrs. Hart, making a limp effort of removing her backpack. She might as well be temporary.

(Her mother’s work takes them nationwide. Goes where she’s needed. It makes her reliable, gives her benefits, ensures food on the table, new clothes, decent places that triangulate what Trini’s family are in need of. An income that carries while her father can’t immediately find a job in the new location.

Never does her mother ask if she’s okay with it. She’s objected once, but one big talk-turned-one-sided-screaming-guilt-fest later, she doesn’t really try anymore.

Here in Angel Grove, she actually wishes to have roots here, where it’s not always her mother and father binding her to this place.)

“Thank you, Mrs. Hart.” She says, hoping her smile isn’t as wooden as her mind makes it to be.

“What are your plans for today? Kim hasn’t elaborated beyond a visit to the mall and some.” Mrs. Hart laughed.

“She’s giving me a tour to the usual places she’s at.” Trini scratches the back of her head. “Believe it or not, but I haven’t been everywhere here in this small town.” She can’t find the reason for the laughter that bubbles out of her. Probably something self-loathing.

“I understand. It’s hard to get into the mindset where everyone seems to know everyone, and your last home was in a city, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. For one year, too.” Trini hesitates. How much has Kimberly said about her? “I’m hoping I can be here for a whole two years, actually. I’m warming up to this place.”

Mrs. Hart tilts her head forward. “My daughter will show you everywhere if you just ask, then.” Trini smiles, and she smiles back, so she must be doing something right. “I recommend that you see Mariner Bay and Reefside if you have the time. Oh!” Embarrassment clouds her face. “Do you need something to eat? A glass of water, anything?”

“Just a water, Mrs. Hart. Please.”

Mrs. Hart smiles and exits right, promising ice cubes or something because Trini’s already all but receding into the couch, clamping her eyes shut.

“‘Just a water.’” Trini mutters under her breath. She can’t excuse her mouth for malfunctioning (it malfunctions around Kimberly even when it’s in working order) because it’s morning because it’s afternoon. Trini and Kimberly are to hit the road, but the driver’s upstairs.

Talking is work. Just as Billy has to emulate the norms of the majority to “fit in”, Trini wears a mask she’s so unprepared to shed, no matter what Zordon says. The Power Rangers are a bunch of personas, she wants to argue; they are disciplined facets used to retaliate once they acknowledge the shadows of themselves are the cause of their strife. (And Rita the reason why she now can’t handle the things that go bump in the night.) Superheroes might be alter egos, but it wasn’t her own choice to be this way. Talking, talking as if her voice is always disused is one of them. She’s coming to terms with all of this, and she appreciates Mrs. Hart hasn’t made light of it yet. She feels very welcome.

She wants to leave now, no offense.

Trini hops from the couch to check if yes, Mrs. Hart’s still getting her water–her back is turned filling a pitcher and god those are lots of ice cubes she’d like to crunch in her mouth–before stimming with the pillows that match with the couch. They feel awesome, and she kind of wants to take a nap in them if they weren’t pressed for time. At least, that’s her opinion.

“Mom!” Hasty footfalls from the second floor tune Trini back to her surroundings. Kimberly’s voice nears, releasing a weight from Trini’s chest, but she still can’t quite figure out what she’s saying.

The confusion repeats until Kimberly crouches in view from the top of the stairs, and Trini realizes Kimberly’s been speaking Gujarati the same time she notices only a black sports bra and matching shorts are what Kimberly wears. A white towel hangs on her damp neck, around her damp shoulders to her–and Trini looks away before she looks down.

She waves in lieu of a wisecrack (because she really needs that glass of water).

“Mom!” Kimberly says again urgently. Her eyes shoot around. They fall to Trini’s, as expected, and they widen. Instead of flushing like Trini is certain she herself is doing, a smile slots in place, coy and inviting. She’s totally where she wants to be. (Not where Trini needs her to be.) Mrs. Hart’s voice responds like background traffic, but Kimberly doesn’t break character. “I’ll see you in a minute.” She does an unnecessary flip out of sight.

Trini wants to call it dramatic. She really does. She just presses a pillow to her lap and counts the paisley patterns on the carpet until Mrs. Hart returns.

“Has Kim been in a theater class or club in school, Mrs. Hart?” she asks after a long chug of water.

A bit of Kimberly’s self can be derived from the devious look that crosses Mrs. Hart’s face. “Certainly not, but during elementary, her school had some…productions.” Trini props a hand on her chin, sucking on a cube, wearing the standard 'do tell’ expression. “I had the film of The Little Mermaid developed on those disposable Kodak cameras, her father Ted would use a mount to record sometimes! I have an album for such things. My daughter manages to hide them before I can show the guests, but not today, it seems.”

“She’s never told me this.” she says with nonchalance.

“Would you like to, Trini?”

Her brows crease as she holds back a gushing smile. She’s only known Kimberly’s mom for what–five minutes?–and fuck, they’re about to go all over Kimberly’s childhood.

There isn’t a preset response in her, it’s hers to make. How long is Kimberly taking?

She pretends to consider it for a few more seconds.

“Why not?” She smiles.

They’re like that for a quarter of an hour, poring through pictures of young Kimberly in costumes, candids, staged photos, two albums where Trini, permitted, takes snapshots of Dorothy-Kimberly staring agog at the legs of the flattened Wild Witch of the Which Direction, to Kimberly being swallowed by that plant in Little Shop of Horrors, and her singing center stage. Mrs. Hart tells her Kimberly has a beautiful voice. She doesn’t doubt it.

The Power Ranger in question thunders downstairs, fully dressed in a moto jacket, shirt, and bleached skinny jeans, her face a bright pink. “Mom!” She gasps as Trini flutters her fingers in greeting. “Both of you…”

“I couldn’t refuse such an opportunity.” Trini says primly.

Kimberly squints at Mrs. Hart as she slips on her duffel bag and picks up her deflated beach ball and its pump with a dignity only she possesses. “We’re going. Bye, _Mom_.”

“Thanks for the water, Mrs. Hart.” Trini smiles, allowing herself to sink in the situation. There are few adults near and far in between she feels comfortable with, and Kimberly’s mom has made that close-knit group. Pity that it shortens to zero every time she moves (But oh does she want to, never).

“It’s a pleasure to have you, Trini.” Mrs. Hart says. She tells Kimberly something in Gujarati, and Kimberly replies in kind, pointing her pump at the ceiling in floppy gestures, flustered again by then and struggling with the handle of the door that Trini has to open it for her.

“What did she say?” Trini asks once their belongings are in the van, doors out and windows down to cool the inside. Kimberly twirls the keys.

“That you were nice, like, 'I’m glad you have new friends.’” Kimberly pulls the front of her shirt to her moist forehead. Trini’s almost blindsided by her abs.

“Was there another part?” Trini asks. She purses her lips. “You don’t have to tell me.” Kimberly glances at her. “Oh, and you were pretty cute in all the photos.”

Kimberly weakly fist pumps. “Still got it.”

“Umm…”

Kimberly’s pout and furrowed brows cut her short. “Okay.” Her mouth twitches.

“You’re a keeper.”

“Huh?”

“My mom said you’re a keeper.” Kimberly says, and Trini falls quiet. The keys Kimberly’s been twirling fly from her grasp. She frowns and retrieves them, dusting them on her pant leg.

“Does she think we’re dating?”

Kimberly seems to almost drop her keys again, and she wobbles a bit like a bowling pin. Graceful, unshakable Kimberly. “U-Us? That isn’t bad, you know–well for me, not bad at all. I didn’t confirm or deny it, Trini. She likes you.”

“I like her too.” Trini points out. “We must be getting really close to be mistaken for that.” It’s not that she minds. She minds if Kimberly does. “Aren’t we?”

“How come you ask?”

“It’s no one’s fault. I just need to be sure every once in a while.” Trini admits. “Sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Kimberly says determinedly, taking hold of one of Trini’s hands. Trini blinks, but curls her fingers around the source of comforting warm without question. “I’m happy whenever I’m with you, Trini, we’re not leaving you anytime soon. I think the van’s okay now.” She catches her keys and heads to the wheel; Trini takes shotgun, examining her hand. “For what it’s worth, being with you makes me a better me. This thing we have, it’s gonna last. I _want_ it to last.” Her smile is a bit sad as she keys the ignition. “You’re my friend, after all.”

Trini nods. Today that rings true. Only–“Why not today, something different?” Kimberly turns, lips parted in surprise. “Something for you to talk to your mom about. Won’t change our dynamic.” She shrugs. “Let’s share gelato, rub sunblock all over each other and do passionate kisses to the setting sun. I fling you into the ocean like a skipping stone. You bury me in a sand castle. More gelato.”

“I thought we were already going to lather sunblock on each other.”

“Of course.” Trini fights the warmth creeping to her cheeks with a glance out the window. “Are you with me?”

“So it’s a date.”

Trini nods quickly and turns. Kimberly’s hair is tossing in a breeze, framing her face, and in the confines of the van, she seems to glow. Trini nods again.

“This is better than I imagined.” Kimberly breathes.

“We even haven’t left your property!” Trini laughs. “I can’t drive. Go, go.”

“That’s the first thing I should teach you on the way to the beach then, datemate.” Kimberly says as she backs out of the parking, a big smile on her face. “Can’t be too difficult like piloting a Zord.”

“Oh my god Kimmy, if you gave me the wheel, you’d be flatlining.”

But she can’t deny, her day has taken a turn for the better.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu at my blog under the same name to blab about characters if you want


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